


Happy endings aren't as simple as four syllables

by iwritetrash



Series: Bellarke One Shots [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy gets shot, Bellarke, F/M, Violence, secret agent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke work together as undercover operatives but when a mission turns sour, Bellamy is left hospitalised and Clarke can't help but wonder where the hell it all went wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy endings aren't as simple as four syllables

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally from the Bellarke Valentines gift exchange but for some reason it never made it to AO3. Well, here it is :) This is all angst af but with a happy ending, I promise it gets better at the end :)

“Clarke,” Octavia stood in the hallway next to where I was sat, leaning against the wall with my legs crossed. “Maybe you should head home. You’re scaring the doctors.” Her tone was empathetic, but with a certain degree of detachment. I knew she disagreed with some decisions I had made in the field, in particular decisions concerning her brother. As for her comment about my appearance, I couldn’t help but agree that I looked ghost like to say the least.

My long, silk evening gown was torn and stained with blood. My hands and forearms were stained bright red. My hair was falling out of its elegant up-do. My pale complexion contrasted dramatically with the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, and the makeup smudged across my face from crying. Yeah, I could see why people might be more than a little startled when they saw me in the hallway.

“Clarke.” Octavia spoke again, more firmly this time. “You need to go home, shower, change, get yourself together, then you can come back when you’re in a better state.”

“No.” I muttered.

“Clarke-” Octavia began, but I cut her off.

“I won’t leave him, O.” I turned my head, to face her, leaning against the wall. “I can’t.” I whispered. Octavia sighed before sitting next to me, sliding down the wall as doctors and nurses bustled past. I turned my head back to face his door.

“I know it hurts, Clarke, believe me, I know, but you can’t just sit here staring at his door.”

“Yes I can.” I replied emotionlessly. We sat in tense silence for a few moments before I cracked and crumbled, turning to face her with tears in my eyes.

“I couldn’t save him, O.” Tears came pouring down my cheeks. “I tried to stop it but everything happened so fast. I thought I was going to lose him.”

“Well you didn’t” Octavia replied coldly, before turning and pulling me into a gentle hug for a few brief moments. She moved to pull back after a few brief seconds, but I clung to her for a minute longer. She softened for a few brief moments, but once I let her go, she toughened up again. “I, um, I’m going to go speak to the doctors again. See if there’s any news.” She stood up awkwardly. She wasn’t a fan of tears and emotion. Octavia was more of a strong and silent type, and expected everyone else to be the same. I nodded, smiling weakly, and she turned to walk back to the waiting room where the rest of Bellamy’s family and friends were waiting.

I closed my eye, tilting my head back to rest against the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“Goddammit,” I whispered to myself, a few stray tears dripping down my cheeks. “It was going so well.”

***

“On your left.” Bellamy’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

“I didn’t know my new partner was Steve Rogers.” I smiled. “Anyway there appear to be quite a few ‘Men with grey hair’ to my left. Could you please elaborate?” I muttered quietly as I moved through the crowd.

“Turn to your left, about 90 degrees.” Bellamy instructed. I followed his instructions as inconspicuously as I could. “Perfect, he’s about 10 paces in front of you. Black tux, white bow tie.”

“Target identified.” I muttered. I made a move to walk closer, but was cut off by a man in his mid 30s with slicked back hair. His hair reminded me of when Bellamy used to do that, before i told him that it looked awful, and his hair looked way better left on its own without all the gel.

“Would you care to dance?” The man smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Real catch you’ve got there, Princess. You should go for it, I won’t get mad, I promise.” Bellamy chuckled, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but I already promised the next dance to someone else. I was just on my way to find him.” I plastered a practiced, pleasant smile on my face.

“You’re on your own, Griffin, I’m not turning up to help you out with this one.” Bellamy laughed and I gritted my teeth, unable to respond with the man in such close proximity.

“Oh, well perhaps the next dance.” The man replied, in a significantly less courteous tone, before walking away.

“Well that was easy.” I muttered once he was out of earshot. “Now dance with me, Blake.” I muttered in a low voice, heading over to where I last saw Bellamy.

“Miss Griffin, you look ravishing tonight,” Bellamy’s low voice rumbled in my ear, his arms snaking around my waist from behind me. I turned to face him, placing one hand on his shoulder and using the other to catch one of the hands that was wrapped around my waist, as we both fell easily into the rhythm of the dance.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr Blake.” I grinned up at him.

“Dammit, you look so beautiful in that dress I just want to get out of here and-”

“Blake, Griffin, need I remind you that you have a mission to complete.” A sharp voice from the control room echoed through our earpieces, cutting Bellamy off before he got carried away and we took ‘Dirty Dancing’ to a whole new level.

“Yes, Blake, stay on task.” I scolded mockingly as I shifted my body closer to his, shooting him a mischievous grin.

“Clarke, you can’t-”

“May I cut in? I do believe I was promised the next dance with this lovely young lady.” The man from earlier interrupted, and Bellamy obliged, bowing slightly, before disappearing into the crowd, muttering that I deserved it for getting him all horny in a public place, during a mission.

I bit my lip, holding back a response, instead turning my attention to the man in front of me, stepping into hold, but maintaining distance between us. The dance was awkward, far less comfortable and rhythmic that the dance I had just shared with Bellamy.

“The man you were with before, is he your husband?” The man asked. I was tempted to say that, yes, he was, simply to gauge his reaction, but I didn’t, instead reciting the story I had used a million times.

“Oh, no, he’s just an acquaintance, we met at a charity benefit last month.”

“Then he won’t mind if I close the gap between us a little,” The obsequious man pulled me closer to him, much closer than I felt comfortable with, “For the sake of the dance, of course. I find it rather difficult to dance with such a considerable distance between myself and my partner.” I could hear Bellamy cursing through my earpiece, clearly frustrated with how close we were.

“That little fucktard better keep his oily hands to himself or I’ll come over there and chop them off.” He growled. I bit back a laugh, struggling to keep a straight face while in such close proximity to the man in front of me, but for Bellamy’s sake, I searched for a conversation topic, hoping that needing to speak might cause the man to take a step back.

“I’m very sorry, I’ve just realized that I haven’t yet asked your name.” I apologized. Thankfully he stepped back a little before responding.

“Oh yes. I’m Cage Wallace.” He smiled, but it was neither charming, nor endearing.

“Eliza Taylor.” I gave him the name of my cover with a forced smile.

“Clarke, you need to get out. This guy is bad news.” Bellamy’s urgent voice came through my earpiece and my blood ran cold.

“I’m very sorry, could you excuse me, I need to use the Ladies Room.” I smiled, attempting to look apologetic.

“Stay until the end of the dance.” Cage commanded, before flashing me another smile. I nodded meekly, before he suddenly pulled me in very close, turning to whisper into my ear. “There are three armed men in this room ready to shoot when I give the signal. I’d tread carefully if I were you.” He whispered menacingly, before stepping back with a smile, bowing slightly as the music ended. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Griffin.” He smirked, and I heard a string of curses and expletives through my earpiece. Cage turned to leave, but after a few steps he stopped and turned to face me again.

“Oh, and Clarke,” He reached up two fingers to tap his ear, “Your earpiece is showing.” He grinned before disappearing into the crowd. I stood absolutely still, frozen in shock.

“We need to get out of here” Bellamy’s voice was urgent. When I didn’t move, he practically yelled. “Goddammit, Clarke, we need to go.” so much for ‘subtle’, but I guess I’d already blown that one.

“But the mission-” I was cut off by a gunshot echoing through the room. “Shit, Bellamy?” I had stopped whispering now. “Bell, where are you?” I spun around, searching the room for a glimpse of his wild curls or perfect brown eyes. “Bellamy, come on, please.” I begged after he still didn’t reply. Crap. Oh shit.

I spotted a crowd gathering in a circle, and practically ran towards it. I pushed through the crowd to see Bellamy lying on the floor, his white dress shirt soaked with blood.

“Bellamy.” I cried out, dropping down onto my knees next to him. I grabbed the hem of my dress, tearing off a strip of fabric and pressing it against the wound on his chest. “Shit. No. You can’t leave me. You fucking asshole, you aren’t going anywhere. Shit.” I cussed, tears rolling down my cheeks, before turning to face the growing crowd. “Do something!” I screamed, “Don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING!” my voice broke as sobbed, my hands still pressing against his chest. There were a few murmurs until eventually someone pulled out a phone to dial an ambulance.

I turned back to Bellamy, feeling his blood soak though the small piece of fabric I was pressing against his chest, in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. I slapped his cheeks lightly with one hand, calling his name, searching for a response, but nothing changed. The only sign he was even alive was the rapid beating of his heart and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “Come on, wake up.” I mumbled, “Bellamy, come on, you can’t leave me.” I whispered. “I need you. You have to wake up. Bellamy, come on. Please, you can’t do this.”

I’m not sure how long I sat there, mumbling to him and holding strips of fabric from my dress onto the wound, tearing off a new one each time I soaked through the one before. It could have been hours before a paramedic was gently resting her hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.

“You did the right thing, miss. You need to step back for a bit so we can get him in an ambulance. Do you want to come with us?” I nodded numbly, standing up and following her to the ambulance. I sat in silence for the entire journey, tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched the paramedics work over his still body. I’m pretty sure his heart stopped twice.  When we finally arrived at the hospital, he was rushed into surgery. I had waited outside, then followed him as the staff wheeled him into a room.

***

And here I was, slumped against the wall outside his room, waiting for him to wake up. I sat, watching the doctors travel along the long, pristine corridors. Every now and then, a nurse would come by to check on Bellamy, and each time I would ask how he was, and each time I received the same response:

“He’s fine, dear. Maybe you should go and wait with the rest of his friends and family.” To which I replied that I was perfectly happy where I was, biting back a snide remark, causing the nurse to tut as she left, at my impertinent behavior, no doubt.

Countless friends visited me at my station by the door:  Jasper made a half-hearted joke. Miller awkwardly offered his apologies. Murphy was a sarcastic asshole, but I wouldn’t expect any less from him. My mom did her best, but her disapproval was shining through, and it was clear that she was using this as further justification for why I should quit my current profession. Raven hugged me tightly, and told me how sorry she was. Wells talked to me for a while, although it was clear that he had never really liked Bellamy, and was only here for me. Monty just sat with me for a while. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t make me talk about it. He talked about anything and everything else to keep my mind off it. Lincoln was the best though. He sat by me in silence, but it was a meaningful silence. I knew that he understood how I felt, because I knew he’d been here before, stuck on the wrong side of the door, praying that everything would be all right. Even though he didn’t say a word, his presence was enough to make me feel less afraid, less alone.

The thing that struck me most about all these visits, though, was the way they spoke about him. Like he was dead already. Like I’d lost him for good.

“He’s not dead!” I wanted to scream at them, “Not yet, at least.”

But I didn’t, because I knew they loved him too (Perhaps not quite in the same way, but love none the less.) Finally, after countless nurses coming and going, I finally received the answer I’d been waiting for.

“He’s doing just fine, and he’s just woken up. You can go in and see him if you want while I go to tell the rest of his friends and family.” I smiled thankfully, before rushing into the room, where he was sat, half propped up on the white hospital bed.

“Hey, Princess.” He smiled weakly.

“Hey, Bellamy,” I smiled, a few stray tears dripping down my cheeks. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Hurts.” He replied with a smirk. I laughed a little, but laughter soon turned to tears.

“I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead. I-” my voice thickened with emotion as my eyes filled quickly with fresh, unshed tears.

“Hey, Clarke, hey. Come here,” He lifted his unaffected arm, gesturing for me to get closer. I walked over and lay on the bed next to him, his arm wrapped around me. He pressed a kiss too my forehead. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled. I nodded, wrapping my arms around his waist, nestling my head into his shoulder, not caring if I got blood or makeup on the pristine sheets.

“I love you. You know that right.” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah, and I love you.” He grinned “Has anyone told you that you look like crap?” He ran his hand through the hair which had already escaped from my up-do, before proceeding to remove all the bobby pins from my hair one my one, letting it fall loose around my face.

“No shit Sherlock.” I muttered sarcastically, but my heart wasn’t really in it, all the exhaustion from the last 24 hours catching up with me.

“Go to sleep, princess, I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He whispered, his hand still gently stroking my hair. I obliged willingly.

A few minutes later, just as I was drifting off, the door creaked open and voices filled the room with excited chatter.

“Shh, guys,” I heard Bellamy whisper, “She’s sleeping.” I presumed he was referring to me. I snuggled closer to him as gently as possibly to avoid moving his bad arm, and let the quiet conversations of the most important people in my life lull me to sleep. I may be in a hospital, but right here, with Bellamy, it feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic is actually something I thought up in my head. I don't know if it's already out there somewhere in a poem or a quote, it probably is but yeah, no title reference here. I hope you liked it :)


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